Papergirl
by Hunhund
Summary: Inspired by Asameshii's Paperman Elsanna picture. This is a one shot that randomly came to mind. Rated T for language.


**Papergirl**

**A/N: **Inspired by Asameshii's Paperman-style Elsanna drawing (link is in my bio)

I couldn't resist.

* * *

Every morning I listen to the sound of the train rails grinding; it used to hurt my ears but now it's the sound that keeps me awake. Every day, boring, like the one before, like the one that will be after. Every face is the same expressionless representation of whatever vessel it belongs to. I'm one of them.

Every morning my commute is the same; I'm an accountant for a fairly successful firm. I work at a desk, not a cubicle, which makes my claustrophobia worse. It makes the room feel even smaller with all the wooden stations interconnected; no personal space, no hiding place. The drab, grey, black and white colours of our clothes, our work, the water cooler, the pens and pencils, the neckties, bowties, scarves, suit jackets, shirts and blouses…all grey, black and white.

I used to think this was what I wanted in life. I used to think that this was the dream. I used to think that my life was going somewhere, that I made the right choice. And then I saw _her_. It started off as every other morning. Every other grey, grinding, claustrophobic morning filled with expressionless faces carried by catatonic vessels.

First, she was a flash of crimson in my peripherals as she pursued an escaped piece of paper caught by the wind. The same wind that reminded me I needed to stay awake. Victorious, she walked up to me. Red and green amongst the grey, black and white. She was colour in my dull, lustreless world. And I couldn't even manage a "hello". She stood next to me on the train platform; wearing a beautiful blouse and long skirt. Her cinnamon hair was neatly styled into two braids that flowed over each shoulder, and she was holding a pile of papers like the one she had almost lost. Resumes, I discovered with a quick sideways glance.

Without warning, another gust of wind blew and carried one of _my _papers…to her face. As I reached quickly to remove it, she gave me the most adorable shy smile as she nervously tucked a stray strand of copper behind her ear. I returned the smile, which turned into a light giggle as she stared at my page; I shifted my gaze and smiled wider at the sight of her lipstick imprinted upon the paper.

A train appeared from behind me. This is where we changed course; this is where she turned the other way. This is where my heart broke and I had nothing to say. I watched her board and sit at a window seat, standing there like an idiot as the train began to move. Her head turned back towards me, and her emerald eyes met mine once more. I could have sworn they were longing…

I wanted to run after her, to hold her by the shoulders and tell her that she was the most magnificent woman I had ever seen. To tell her that I fell in love with her within the first second of realizing she existed. I wanted to learn her favorite colour, her favorite song, her favorite animal…I wanted to tell her that she _is _colour. But how could I compete with a train?

And like the coward I am, I said nothing, did nothing, and let it go.

I decided to treasure that piece of paper. All I could do for the entire first hour of my shift was sit at my desk and blankly stare at the prize in front of me; the pen was in my hand but I had neither the will nor desire to make it scratch on the paper. My boss cleared his throat –twice-, and I didn't hear him until the loud _thump _of a stack of papers reverberated through the air. He turned and walked away, unimpressed.

The wind was against me today; a small gust tried to steal my treasure out the slightly open window next to my desk. My heart leapt into my throat as my reflexes kicked in and I caught it _just _in time! Maybe the wind was with me after all…I glanced at the building across the street, my heart filled with joy as I saw her, perfectly framed like a rare portrait within the window, sitting in a chair. My eyes widened, my palms pressed against the glass and my breath fogged it over.

What will I do? What _can _I do? I can wave! Yes, I can wave! I flail my arms like one of those inflatable tube men they have for clearance sales until the sound of my boss clearing his throat gave me pause. I looked over and saw him leaning back in his chair, scoffing at me and glaring at me to get back to work.

I sat back down, but was still determined. I took one of the fiscal reports from the stack of papers on my desk and immediately folded it expertly into a paper airplane. One more quick peek over towards my boss –he isn't looking. I throw the paper craft, and it limply falls to the street below.

_Shit_. I think to myself, and look back to the pile, unfazed; I take another sheet and fold. This plane hits the side of the building, less than a foot from the open window. Another sheet, another fold. A hand on my shoulder! My boss looks incredibly irritated as he closes my window with his free hand, staring at me the entire time. He turns back to his office and marches. A light slam with the sound of a shaking glass panel. Another sheet. Another fold.

I carefully open the window again and toss; it sails downward to another open window, right into the hands of another colourless catatonic expressionless being. I signal that it wasn't meant for him, and he balls my creation into garbage. Another sheet, another fold, and I take out a pigeon in mid-flight. _Goddamnit. _

Five more sheets, five more folds, five more failures. Ten more sheets, ten more folds, ten more _failures_. And suddenly I'm out of sheets to fold, indicated by the rattle of my in-basket as I reach. _Oh no! She's getting up from her seat! _I make a quick decision to take the treasured sheet and fold it meticulously. _This one cannot fail! _I stand at the window, my chest fills with air, and as I bring the plane to my lips for a godspeed kiss the wind snatches it from my grip; I look on in horror as it spirals towards the street.

I watch through the neighbouring window as she walks into another office, sitting down in front of the desk for an interview. She smiles, and my heart flutters.

_Thump! _Another pile of papers dropped on my desk, and now my boss looks furious. He points to my chair and leers at me before I obey and take my seat. He turns to leave again; I look out the window in time to see her leaving the room. I clamber to the windowsill and see her heading out. Within what seems like only a moment she is at the front revolving door of the building, and before I know it I'm bolting out of the office like a madwoman in a flash of platinum.

And then I'm playing Frogger. A bus misses me by an inch, a delivery truck by half a foot! I dodge a car and scramble to the sidewalk, bringing my hands up to my hair to squeeze the champagne locks in frustration as my eyes survey the street, searching desperately for my colour.

My arms and my shoulders fall; I look ahead and see a lone paper airplane teetering on top of a mail box. _Fuck you. _I hiss quietly as I grab it; it's the treasured one, at least I can take comfort in that… No, on second thought, no, I _can't _take comfort in that! I'm pissed! I've lost her! I'll never find her! And I just ran out of my office building as if it were on fire! I throw that plane with such fury that my elbow pops and I growl.

I lose sight of it, and I don't even care where it's gone. I turn and walk away, hands slammed into my pockets, frowning, and then my foot suddenly has a paper plane attached to it. I blink and kick it away, then three more attack my belly. I push them away. Four attach to my chest as if they were loosed arrows and I was a target. I maniacally flail them off of me, but I am a magnet; _twenty _surround me in a whirlwind of persistent pulp! And practically carry me across the street!

I'm struggling to get away, but they simply will not let me go. They take me to the train platform, onto a train; force me onto a seat, and regardless of all my attempts keep me seated until we reach a stop. I don't even know what stop, but the papers have their own agenda, and sweep me through the doors onto the platform…to _her. _My colour is standing there, holding one of the planes. She recognizes me and smiles as she approaches, tucking her hair behind her ear again.

She holds her hand out to me. "Anna." She says.

"Elsa." I say.

"Coffee?" She smiles.

"Please." I smile back.


End file.
